One of my co-workers just recently began a part-time modelling career.  Knowing that I “dabble” in photography (ie, made a living from it for a very short while), she asked me to look over her portfolio and tell me what I thought.

Now, being a former photo editor and current “two-way” photojournalist (which isn’t as dirty as it sounds), I have seen a lot of pictures from a lot of new photographers and models.  And these images, well, they looked like every other picture from every other new photographer and/or model.  It’s not that the pictures were bad (they weren’t) or that the photog/model team didn’t work hard (they did), it’s just that the poses, expression, composition, and lighting were just a little too much like the pictures on a thousand MySpace profiles and Deviantart galleries.  And that’s a good thing.

Why?  Because it’s the starting point, that’s why.  It’s the diving platform upon which every creative person climbs onto and jumps off from.  The catch is, you have to have a solid footing on this platform before you can do a spectacular backflip that wows the judges.  You might call it mediocrity, but it’s in that mediocrity that you can hide, improve, and master your skills, one piece at a time, until your greatness is ready to emerge.  It’s then that you can jump off the diving board and make a splash.

Just don’t wait to long to make that splash, though; eventually, the proverbial competition ends, and the judges go home.  Then, you’re just stuck on the diving board of mediocrity, with no one to care what your jump looks like.

My infant son is starting to develop some independence, and so it’s time for him to learn to use a “sippy cup.”  We have been filling them with water and handing him the cups for about a month now, with limited success.  So, I finally decided to get serious with the issue, and sat him down on my lap with his nicest sippy cup.

Five minutes later, he hadn’t taken a single drop out of it.  I finally grabbed it, started sucking and chewing on it, and nothing came out.  I kept trying different methods, but to no avail.  Sadly, I gave up and gave him a drink in his old bottle.

I have spent seven cumulative years studying at the university level, yet I can’t figure out how to make that sippy cup work.  My son (who is less than a year old) can’t even talk yet, but someone at the sippy cup factory expects him to figure out what I can’t.

Bad design is one thing; arrogant design is another.  Expecting an infant to figure out some complicated trick in order to get water places your design on the same level as playground bullies who pick on the kindergarten students.

“If you solve your problems with a chainsaw, you won’t have that problem again.”  –random internet quote

Chainsaws are awesome.  Any schmuck can use one to savagely destroy something, yet talented artists can use one to create great works of art.

The key thing is that whatever change you create with a chainsaw, it’s going to be permanent.  Imagine, for a second, if every solution that needed to be permanent was, in fact, permanent.  Customers aren’t excited about your product?  Axe it and find something exciting to sell.  Customers are never happy (and/or unprofitable), no matter what you do?  Axe them, and find someone exciting to sell to.

If you’re in this business for the long haul, do things for the long haul.  Fire up the chainsaw, savagely cut and thrash, and make your changes permanent.

Seth Godin is the original “marketing guru,” and one heck of a smart guy.  He also happens to blog about being creative, doing great work, and other things in management that aren’t normally associated with being in management.

Seth’s blog post this morning on “Service Design” (similar to what I call Customer Design), really hit close to home for me.  In it, he talks about making the connection between the person who designs the customer experience, and the person who actually carries it out.  In most cases, the manager who decided how much to spend on cleaning supplies is completely isolated from the customer who is repulsed by the filthy store.  Or even worse, the manager has no respect or concern for that customer.

What’s really sad about this situation is that the (now upset) customer will blame the front line staff.  The front line staff are now upset, having been blamed (and often humiliated) by someone else’s design.  They’re now less capable of giving great service to the next person in line, who is also turned off by the sticky floor, or the long line up, or the disorganized displays.

Here’s one possible solution:  force the service designer to be a customer.  Make them go to the store/dealership/hotel/restaurant/etc., and buy the cheapest, smallest thing there, at the busiest peak time, when the staff are stretched to their limit.  If the design was done right, the experience will be a reward for great work.  If the design was done wrong, it will be an awful punishment-and a great place to start re-designing.